HellraiserBreak The Silence
by Sharona1981
Summary: A mysterious woman summons the Cenobites in modern day London, but she has a past history with lead Cenobite Pinhead. Elliott-Pinhead/OC. No copyright infringement intended. AU. WARNING:Dark fic-lots of sex & violence.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1-CHANCE MEETING

INDIA, 1920

Elliott was tired. Tired of all the safe human pleasures he'd experienced since the war had left him so disillusioned and bitter. The drugs, the meaningless sex...as good as they felt at the time, they left him feeling wholly empty and unfulfilled afterwards.

Hard to believe he'd once been a good soldier, brave and dutiful, a captain, no less. But the war had changed him. He'd lost so many of his friends and been left feeling that God had conveniently abandoned all of them while they'd been pointlessly slaughtered-He too, had fallen at Flanders.

If his friends could see him now, they probably wouldn't recognise him. Hardly surprising, since, when Elliott looked in the mirror these days, he barely recognised himself. He no longer really cared about human life; all he cared about was gratification, travelling the world, seeking pleasure.

But, so far, pleasure too had failed him.

So he'd come to India, having heard that here, one could find the kinds of pleasure that western civilization lacked. However, so far, the place had been a bitter disappointment. Oh, there were plenty of drugs, and beautiful, willing women, but one could find those anywhere.

He wanted something deeper. Something..._forbidden_...

Dressed in his uniform, he was at a bar, enjoying his second double Scotch when he noticed the woman who had just come in, and was sitting mere feet away from him. Well, hard not to notice her, really-she was stunning. Flame-red hair, that cascaded halfway down her back, a perfectly proportioned hourglass figure, and the most beautiful, piercing, green eyes.

She hadn't even glanced in his direction since her arrival, but Elliott still felt a familiar stir of arousal. She seemed to be alone, and he knew from experience what a woman was offering when she showed up alone in a place like this. The only thing he didn't know was whether she was charging for her services, or giving them for free.

Elliott wasn't sure how to approach her, but he knew he had to have her. Of course, the physical satiation he would undoubtedly find in that beautiful body would prove to be transitory, as it always did, but at this precise moment, he really didn't care.

He saw his chance when she produced a cigarette, then fumbled for a lighter. Leaping from his seat, he had her cigarette lit before she located her lighter. Taking a long, satisfying drag, the woman turned her head and exhaled smoke through her nostrils, then fixed those incredible eyes on him. "Thank you." She murmured, in a distinctly upper-class British accent. Elliott smiled. "My pleasure." He replied-and oh, it _would_ be.

Close up, she was even more beautiful-an English rose, Elliott thought. She looked so demure, but he had been around enough women to know that the more demure they seemed, the more sexual they truly were.

The woman arched an eyebrow at Elliott's unabashed gaze. "May I ask what you're staring at?" She enquired. "_You_." Elliott said bluntly. "That's not a problem, is it?" "To be honest," she replied. "It's making me a little uncomfortable." Elliott's smile grew. "Is _that_ a problem?" He asked. The woman squirmed in her seat. "What do you want?" She demanded. Elliott leaned in, all his outward charm disappearing. He could be nice when he wanted to, but lately, he had discovered a previously unfound spark of darkness within himself, that had quickly become a flame.

And he wanted this woman to fan that flame.

"What we _both_ want." He murmured, and immediately, the woman got to her feet, sensuous eyes flashing in anger. Completely unprepared, Elliott stumbled back as her hand connected viciously with his face. "How _dare_ you." She hissed, and, recovering quickly, he actually had to fight the urge to strike back. "Oh, come on, " he snapped. "Why else does a woman come into a bar on her own?" "Because I have no _choice_!" She exclaimed, and Elliott was shocked to see that she was suddenly near tears. "My husband died in the very war you probably fought in-I have no-one else!" Turning to the bar, she downed her drink-it looked like whisky or brandy-in one gulp, then spun on her heels and stormed out.

Elliott watched her leave, ashamed. His conscience-something he wasn't sure he still had lately- pricking at him, he knew he had to go after her and apologise for his reprehensible behaviour.

The woman turned reluctantly when Elliott came chasing after her, calling, "Wait! Please, _wait_!" When he came to her, he doffed his hat and bowed a little. "Forgive me." He said quietly. "I had the wrong impression-I apologise. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Spenser. Captain Elliott Spenser."

Perhaps unwillingly, the woman smiled and extended her hand, which Elliott shook. "I'm Nadine Jones." She replied. "And your apology is _somewhat_ accepted. I'm sorry for hitting you. To be honest, it's not the first time a man has approached me with the same intention. I know how it must look, but to be perfectly honest, I stopped caring about other people's opinions of me quite some time ago."

Elliott grinned at that. "As did I." He agreed, then gestured to the bar they'd just exited. "Let me buy you a drink, Nadine." He added. "By way of apology." Nadine arched an eyebrow at him for the second time that night. "_Just_ a drink?" She asked, amused, and Elliott held out his arm to her in an intentionally exaggerated display of gallantry. They both laughed, as Nadine took the proffered arm, and as they walked back into the bar, he said, "_Just_ a drink. I promise."

And Elliott meant it. It was apparent that he'd got the wrong idea about Nadine-she was obviously a lady.

But _oh_, how wrong he would turn out to be...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2- Forbidden Pleasures**

**"Enjoy The Silence" is the property of Depeche Mode; "Cat People (Putting Out Fire)" is the property of David Bowie and Giorgio Moroder****. **

_**I wish to emphasise that the derogatory comment made about God in this chapter is the opinion of my character. While I am an atheist, I wish to cause no offence to anybody, or their religious beliefs. Thank you. **_

**WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX, SOME VIOLENCE**__

**"Words like violence break the silence, come crashing in, into my little world. **

**Painful to me, pierce right through me-can't you understand, oh, my little girl?**"

They'd become friends. Elliott wasn't entirely sure why or how: he'd never been interested in having a platonic relationship with a woman-and certainly not with one as beautiful as Nadine was. But, somehow, friends they were.

He had discovered some things about his new friend in the two months since they'd first met, however; for one, while she looked and spoke like a lady, Nadine definitely _wasn't_ one. She was independent, free-spirited and opinionated-and, as she had told him when they met, she didn't care in the least about what other people thought of her. And Elliott had found out pretty quickly that people didn't seem to think a lot of her at all.

Actually, no, that wasn't quite right.

_Women_ didn't.

_Men_, on the other hand...

While Nadine seemed to have no intention of surrendering to Elliott's bed, he knew she wasn't exactly living the life of a nun, to say the least. There had been quite a number of men in her life, even in the short time they'd known each other. And the only reason he knew that was because Nadine always told him. Took pleasure in telling him, in fact. If it was an attempt to make him jealous, however, it was not working.

Not _really_.

Elliott didn't consider himself a great catch, not by any means, but he looked decent enough, was a captain, was well-respected. Or, _used_ to be, anyway. But Nadine apparently had no feelings for him, seemed to be lusting after every other man in the general vicinity _but_ him, in fact. She was a widow, which meant that she was entitled to seek comfort in a sexual form, but the way she subsequently tossed the details of every casual conquest in his face...it was like she wanted to hurt him.

Not that that would surprise him, either. There was a dark quality to Nadine's personality, an almost sadistic pleasure he saw on her face every time she told him a suitor had been particularly rough with her. Far from disgusting or unnerving him, however, these details intrigued him-even aroused him.

Perhaps he wasn't jealous of her sexual activities, but he did want her-and the less interest she showed in going to bed with him, the stronger his desire became...

But he wouldn't wait forever...

Elliott was halfway through his third double Scotch, when Nadine flounced into the bar-the same bar, incidentally, where they'd met-and sat down next to him "Can you get me a double brandy, Captain?" She asked. "I'm parched." Elliott ordered her drink, then swallowed the last of his Scotch, slamming the glass down on the dirty wooden counter. "You'll be drinking it alone." He said sharply. "I've been waiting for you for an hour and a half. Where the Hell were you?" Nadine smiled at him, then laid her hand on his arm, trying to appease him. "I'm sorry, Elliott." She replied, looking and sounding anything but, which only served to anger him further. "I lost track of time. Besides, I wasn't aware we were exclusive."

Glaring at her, Elliott turned around and stormed out without a word. As soon as he got outside, he lit a cigarette and dragged down on it, trying to calm down. He liked Nadine-but she seriously got on his nerves sometimes.

Then she was following him out, looking annoyed rather than contrite. "Come on, Elliott," she sighed. "There's no need to be such a baby about this." Swearing, he whirled 'round and roughly grabbed her wrist, wrenching her to him. He looked furious now. "I don't know what you want, Nadine." He hissed. "But if you honestly think I'm going to sit around waiting like some bloody lap dog while you work it out, you've got another think coming, sweetheart. Why you did you even come here-to tell me who you _fucked_ tonight? Well, I'm not interested-alright?!" Obviously shocked at this outburst, Nadine murmured, "That's no language for a gentleman to use." His grip on her wrist tightening, Elliott yanked her even closer, and retorted harshly, "I'm no gentleman, Nadine. Keep pushing me, and I'll _prove_ it to you." Thrusting her away from him, he turned around and walked away again.

He didn't turn when Nadine began to laugh at him. It was only when she shouted, "What's the matter, Captain? Are you jealous because _you_ can't get anyone into bed??", that he spun around. Fury he'd never known boiling inside him, he viciously backhanded her.

As soon as Nadine slumped to the ground, clutching her face, Elliott's anger vanished as quickly as it had arrived, as he realized what he'd done, and shame overwhelmed him. He'd been telling her the truth when he said he wasn't a gentleman-but he had never, in his life, struck a woman. True, she had provoked him to anger, but _this_...

He dropped to his knees beside her, horrified by his actions. "Nadine?" He said quietly, hands reaching out to touch, to comfort. "Nadine, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to..." Nadine pushed his hands away, slowly getting to her feet, and he could see the blood on her mouth, which made him feel even worse.

Elliott started to apologise again, but the words died a premature demise in the back of his throat, when Nadine finally looked at him and he saw the expression on her face, the unmistakable look in her eyes.

_Desire_.

Jesus, he'd just..._hit_ her-and _now_ she wanted him?

"About time." She murmured, even as a thin stream of blood trickled onto her chin. "I was starting to think you weren't a man at all." The truth dawned on Elliott quickly, and he gaped at her. "You..._wanted_ me to hit you?" He gasped. "All those things you said...you said on purpose, so I'd...?" Nadine smiled, absently wiping at her bleeding mouth with the heel of her hand, but didn't respond. The unbridled want now glittering in those sensuous green eyes was genuinely unsettling, and Elliott actually took an unconscious step back from her. "Nadine," he choked. "For the love of God..." She burst out laughing at that, causing tiny droplets of blood to fly from the corners of her mouth. "_God_?!" She repeated, voice dripping with derision. "I always find it hilarious that after all the suffering and needless death this world has suffered, it still cries out to a god who, in our moments of most exquisite pleasure or excruciating agony, closes his eyes and turns his head away." As Elliott's eyes widened, Nadine reached out to cup his face in her hands. The gesture was gentle, but it was obvious that her intentions weren't. "Does it look like God's here, Elliott?" She whispered. "God knows nothing of pleasure, or pain, for that matter. But you can know it all. You just have to ask for it."

Elliott shook his head, but his resolve was crumbling. He had enough experience to know when merely sex was being offered-there was something in Nadine's eyes, the pleasure she'd got in his striking her, that told him there would be sex-but on the way, there would be something more.

_Much_ more.

"You're insane." Elliott's whisper matched hers, and she smiled indulgently at his words. "Absolutely." She replied. "What's _your_ excuse, Captain Spenser?"

He didn't reply this time-not with words, anyway.

He simply stared at her for a moment, then dragged her into his arms. His kiss was hungry, bordering on desperate, his mouth crushing hers. Nadine moaned into his mouth, then wrapped her arms around his neck, her tongue pushing at his lips, demanding entry. Elliott's mouth opened to accept her, his moan answering hers, the kiss quickly growing more and more passionate, until Nadine suddenly pulled away, and murmured, "Take me home, Elliott."...

By the time they got to his hut, Elliott was literally shaking with anticipation, and need. He had never felt such single-minded lust for another person in his life. Because he knew this would be different.

Shredding Nadine's blouse in his hands, he ripped off the destroyed garment, then buried his head in her chest, making incoherent hungry noises. Nadine indulged him for a moment, then pushed him away. "We can concentrate on me later." She told him with a smile. "For now...I'm going to concentrate on you."

Once she had him flat on his back, on top of his bed, she stripped him at an agonizingly slow pace, succeeding, whether intending to or not, in driving Elliott almost completely mad. When he was finally naked, Nadine stepped back, appraising him. He leaned up, hands outstretched for her, but she leapt back, just beyond his reach, grinning now, then picked up his tie. "Do you trust me, Elliott?" She enquired. He smiled uncertainly. "Absolutely not." He replied, only half-jokingly. He honestly didn't know what she was planning, and he felt a little frightened of the look she was bestowing on him.

She looked like a predator regarding its next meal.

As if she hadn't heard him, Nadine approached, tie in her hand. "Put your hands up over your head." She ordered, and when he hesitated, she sighed. "I won't hurt you." She said, in a gentler tone, then added, more forcefully, "_Much_."

Who was he trying to fool? Elliott thought? He wanted this. Whatever she had planned for him...he _wanted_ it. Obediently, he lifted his arms up, stiffening slightly when she tied his hands to the wooden headboard. He was still aroused, hugely so, but that arousal was now mixed with fear and uncertainty.

When she turned her back on him, Elliott had a crazy notion that she was going to leave him here, hog-tied and bollock-naked-well, it seemed like something Nadine _would_ do. However, she seemed to be looking for something in his knapsack, and when she faced him, his stomach clenched when he saw what she had clutched in her hand.

_His penknife_.

Immediately, he shook his head, eyes wide. "No." He said firmly. "I don't want..." "Yes, you do." Nadine was contradicting him before he could even finish his sentence. "I can see it in your eyes, Elliott. You're curious-and that's enough." As she leaned over his prone form, she whispered in his ear, "Sometimes, pain and pleasure can be exquisitely indivisible. Indistinguishable. Let me show you."

Elliott's eyes locked with hers, and he knew he was lost. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded, and immediately, she straddled his hips, still, except for her discarded blouse, fully clothed. Slowly, she ran her hands down Elliott's chest, relishing his quiet groan, then she moved forward, practically laying on top of him, and found his lips. As she kissed him, she ran the cold steel of his knife down his chest, then nicked him, just next to his right nipple, deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to seriously maim. Elliott cried out, into her mouth, and lunged forward, and she drew the knife back. "Don't make any sudden movements." She chided gently. "I want to cut you, not _kill_ you."

Once he was still again, Nadine dipped her head and ran her tongue along the cut she'd made, tasting his blood, then moved onto his nipple and began to suck on it. Elliott moaned again, body thrashing under her ministrations, then uttered another cry when she made another small incision on the other side of his chest. Still suckling, she ran her fingers over the fresh wound, smearing blood over his body.

"Untie me." Nadine's head jerked up, at the harsh command, and she smiled when her eyes met Elliott's. They were hazy with animal lust, and anger. And pain. "_Now_." He practically shouted, but she shook her head. She wasn't done yet.

Pressing her lips to his chest, relishing the shiver that travelled through Elliott's body at the contact, she moved lower, running her tongue along his abdomen until she came to the strip of hair just below his navel. Another cut there. Down between his thighs. Another kiss. Another cut.

Elliott was writhing mindlessly now, as Nadine continued to torture and pleasure him. He had never known anything like this, and all he wanted to do was get out of these bonds and return the favour.

"Nadine, please..." Finally, after cutting him at least half a dozen times, Nadine moved upwards again, and let him loose. With an animalistic growl, Elliott attacked, rolling her onto her back and wrenching the knife from her hand. "I presume," he panted in her ear. "That you want this as much as I did?" He barely waited for her breathy "_Yes_", before his mouth captured hers in a bruising, painful kiss, and it was Nadine's turn to cry out when he cut her, right across her chest, and felt the blood flow. Even as he tore off her clothes, he continued to cut, kiss, suck and bite his way along her body, aroused beyond cognition at the sensations he knew he was making her feel.

By the time he entered her, he knew it wouldn't be gentle. After what they'd done to each other, their sadistic form of foreplay, it couldn't be. And it wasn't. He pounded into her, the bed quaking under his brutal movements, barely feeling Nadine's body wrap around his, her nails clawing into his back, drawing yet more blood, matching his ever-quickening rhythm perfectly, moaning his name like a litany. The sounds coming out of his own mouth were ones he was sure he'd never made before; feral, vicious. He was vaguely aware that he could be hurting her, but he was too far gone to care. As he knew she was.

Nadine was first to topple over the edge, screaming, clutching him to her, while her whole body shuddered. Elliott quickly followed suit, slowing down, freezing, then shouting in ecstasy as his orgasm, so intensely pleasurable it could almost be mistaken for pain, tore through his unprepared body.

Still quivering, he collapsed on top of her, a heady scent, a mixture of sex, blood and sweat, filling the room. Finally, Nadine, looking as shattered, but utterly satisfied, as he felt, murmured, "Like I said, Elliott-all you ever have to do is ask."...

LONDON, PRESENT DAY

**"…See these eyes so red, red like jungle, burning bright. **

**Those who feel me near pull the blinds and change their minds. **

**It's been so long... **

**And I've been putting out fire with gasoline..."**

Nadine pushed her way through the crowded dancefloor, the pulsing lights overhead catching her flame-coloured hair and giving it an ethereal glow. But then, everything about Nadine Jones seemed ethereal now.

She was still beautiful, hair just as eye-catching, eyes still that exotic shade of green. But there was a coldness in her now, a coldness even stronger than..._before_. In her search for pleasure, she had found something much, much greater.

_Immortality_.

It was just a pity he couldn't have shared it with her.

_Elliott_.

It had been almost eighty years since Elliott's disappearance, when he had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, like he had never been there to begin with. However, while Nadine knew he had never been the settling-down type, she had always refused to believe Elliott would simply leave without telling her. While they had been lovers, he had never _loved_ her; she'd never had any illusions of having any sort of hold over him. But she knew him well enough to know that if he'd planned to leave, he would have told her.

_Which meant that he'd __**died,**__ somehow_.

And it had all started with that box.

_The Lament Configuration_.

Ever since Elliott's unexplained vanishing act, she'd searched for it, determined to find out the truth about what had happened to him. But, for some reason, while the box had apparently simply fallen into Elliott's hands, or as good as, she had never found a trace of it.

Until _now__**.**_

She'd followed the young man here, to FireWorks, a nightclub for hedonists of all shape and description, a place where people sought pleasure-sex, drugs, all the usual stuff she herself had once experimented with. When she was still _human_.

Of course, she hadn't really followed _him_, but the box, the box he'd been holding proudly in his hands, the same box she had recognized immediately, even after all these years. The source of Elliott's obsession with 'forbidden' pleasure, the door she herself had given him the key to. And this human was obviously seeking the same door.

He was ludicrous, this arrogant, foolish mortal, with his loud boasts of finding eternal life and the ultimate utopia. Nadine had a very strong suspicion that he was going to be bitterly disappointed.

Because she felt certain that whatever Elliott had found when he'd opened that box, it sure as _Hell_ hadn't been utopia…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3-The Box **

**(After reading other fics and researching a bit, I've realized there's only one 't' in Elliot's name, so apologies for misspelling in previous chapters.)**

**"Slow Chemical" is the property of Finger Eleven.**

**"The wonder of the world is gone, I know for sure; **

**All the wonder that I want, I found in her..." **

**India, the day before Elliot's disappearance:**

"A box?!"

Elliot sighed. He hadn't really expected Nadine to respond to news of his latest venture with much enthusiasm, but a little would have been nice. However, she looked so utterly nonplussed, he was starting to wish he'd never told her.

"It's not _just_ a box, Nadine." He replied, trying to remain patient. "Apparently, whoever opens it, also opens a gateway to unknown pleasures."

"A g-" Nadine couldn't even finish, as she let out an amused snort. "Elliot," she said finally. "_Please_ don't tell me you actually _believe_ in that kind of superstitious nonsense." As Elliot glared at her, she took a deep breath, and added, "A box is a box. Boxes aren't gateways to _anything_."

They were in Elliot's hut; Nadine had practically moved in at this point, the two of them having become a 'couple'. Sort of. The sex was amazing, but the pain...the pain took Elliot to the brink of madness, right before the pleasure took him over.

Nadine was..._astonishing_, took him places that almost blew the top of his head off.

But he didn't love her.

As he was sure she didn't love him.

Annoyed, Elliot grabbed his bag and rummaged through it for a moment, before finding his prize and pushing it into his lover's hands.

The box had caught his eye when he was strolling through a bazaar earlier in the day. The sunlight had glinted off the polished brass, had drawn Elliot's attention, and the very moment he laid eyes on it, he had to have it, no matter the price.

"What's your pleasure, sir?" The old, wizened, dark-skinned market owner had asked of him, and Elliot immediately demanded the box, and that was when the old man told him what the box was.

Or, what it was _supposed_ to be.

To his amazement, when Elliot still expressed a strong desire to possess the strange but exquisite puzzle box-_The Lament Configuration_, the old man had called it, such an odd title-and then persisted, "I have to have it-name your price!", the market owner simply handed it over, offered him a grin full of blackened teeth and enigmatically said, "It is yours. It has _always_ been yours.", before turning his back and walking away.

And so, here he was, with a 'gateway to unknown pleasures'-acquired free of charge. He couldn't wait to open it-only hoped he _could_ open it.

It was the look on Nadine's face that brought him back to the present. She was regarding the wooden and brass box held gingerly in her hands with an expression he initially didn't recognise, because he'd never seen Nadine wearing it. Then it hit him.

_It was __**fear**_.

Shivering, Nadine practically threw the box back at him. "I don't like it." She said tremulously. "It's..._creepy_." Waving a hand vaguely at it, she added, "Quite beautiful, but..._no_. I don't like it. There's something bad in there, Elliot."

Elliot chuckled, but her fear unnerved him a little. This was a woman who laughed into the faces of all those who spoke ill of her, a woman who used sex like a lethal weapon, a woman who tied him up and cut him to shreds, and made him _love_ it.

And she was afraid of a _box_.

"Come on, Nadine." He leaned over and kissed her neck, her skin flush against his mouth as he whispered, "I thought you said it was just a box." Nadine shook her head. "That's what I thought." She replied, clutching at his shoulders, as if wanting to keep him close. "But...I'm not sure it's pleasure you'll find if you open that thing, Elliot." As Elliot turned her face to look at him, she stared at him hard for a long moment, then dropped her eyes. "But you're going to open it anyway, aren't you?" She asked quietly.

Elliot grinned, holding her close. It was the first time Nadine had ever expressed concern for him, and while it was distinctly unfamiliar, he was quite touched. However, he did feel she was over-reacting completely. "Yes, I am." He murmured into her hair. "Can't you see, I _have_ to? I have to know." He felt rather than saw Nadine nod. "I understand." She said, sounding resigned. "I only hope you find what you're looking for."...

**London, Present Day**

Nadine had trailed the young man back to his apartment, and now she stood under the glow of a streetlight, staring up at his window. She had to get in there before he opened the box; she knew from what Elliot had told her that only those who opened the box were allowed to experience the 'pleasure'.

She also knew there was no point in presenting sweet, demure Nadine to this human-or twisted, sadistic Nadine, for that matter. He had the box; the promise of a willing female would mean nothing to him.

Which left her only one option-to present her '_real_' self to him, to show him her true face.

In the absence of desire, only the promise of _fear_ remained...

Ben Armstrong sat on his bedroom floor, fingers caressing the box, determined to solve it. The bloke at the antique store-at least, he _thought_ it was an antique store-hadn't even charged him for it.

_"It's yours. It's __**always**__ been yours."_

Bloody weirdo.

Not that he was complaining.

It was called the Lament Configuration, an ancient puzzle box that was alleged to open a doorway to incredible pleasures.

All sounded good to him.

Now, if he could only _open_ the fucking thing.

He barely heard the window opening, only looked up when he saw the woman standing right in front of him. She was beautiful, incredibly, so, almost in an otherworldly way, with her fiery hair, pale skin and captivating green eyes. Normally, he would feel desire for such a woman.

Now, he felt only _anger_.

"What the _Hell_ do you think you're-?" He trailed off, mouth dropping open, when the woman's face seemed to change right in front of him. Her eyes slowly turned a dark crimson, as if filling with blood, and her canines slowly elongated into...

_Fangs_.

"Oh, _sh_-" He didn't even get the word out as she fell on him, wrenching the still unopened box out of his grasp, then, with inhuman strength, tossing him effortlessly across the room. Ben fell against his apartment door with a crash, then bounced to the floor, dazed.

While he lay there, trying to regain his bearings, Nadine worked on the box, touching every facet of its faces, twirling it around in her hands. Her mortal dread of it no longer existed-since she was no longer _mortal._

After only moments, she ran her thumb over one of the larger brass circles on the box, and gasped as it crackled in her hands, emitting an electric shock. She dropped it to the floor, where it completed itself, its corners rising, then dropping back into place, a sweet, but melancholic melody coming from it.

"You _bitch_!" Ben cried, when he realized she'd opened the box, struggling to his feet. "I'll fucking _kill_-!" His voice faded out as suddenly, the whole room seemed to blaze with white light, and somewhere, a bell tolled. Nadine's features regained their 'human' look, as she reached out for the box. And let out a _very_ mortal scream when the hooked chains came...

**(Next chapter-Nadine comes face to face with her past. I'm still trying to figure out whether Nadine will recognise him. Thanks for your kind reviews and messages-all greatly appreciated!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4-Something Familiar **

"Bullet With Butterfly Wings" is the property of Smashing Pumpkins.

_**"The world is a vampire, sent to drain; **_

_**Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames. **_

_**And what do I get for my pain? **_

_**Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game..." **_

Nadine was immortal. She couldn't die. She _could_, however, feel pain, and the pain caused by the seemingly countless chains that now suspended her in mid-air and hooked her flesh in at least half a dozen places, threatening to rip her very essence apart, was excruciating, bordering on unbearable.

The mortal who had led her to the box was forgotten, as Nadine screamed in agony, her mind trying to process what had happened, even through the pain.

_The box_.

She had opened the box.

But how could _this_ be pleasure? How could anyone, even she, who had sought pain in pleasure during her mortal lifetime, consider _this _pleasure?

And then, just like that, the truth came to her.

_Elliot_.

_Oh, __**Elliot**_.

He had opened the box in search of pleasure, and instead, had found certain death. As Nadine herself almost felt she had found.

Except she couldn't die this way. Her body was indestructible, as long as she avoided direct sunlight, the one and only thing that could destroy what was now was.

It was then that Nadine realized she wasn't alone. Struggling to keep her eyes open even as twin chains caught in her upper cheeks seemed about to pull them from their sockets, she dimly saw three figures emerge from the light.

And even through her agony, Nadine gasped.

Because, whatever these..._things_ were, they weren't human.

One seemed to be female, her throat cut open completely, and held back with wires. There was more wire in her face, threaded through her cheeks. She, as with the others, was completely bald and dressed in a leather outfit that seemed to be somehow sewn into her flesh.

The second one was hideously deformed, its sex impossible to determine. Its lips and jaw were peeled back from its face, and its fully exposed teeth chattered constantly.

The sight of these two alone would be enough to strike fear into anyone's heart, but it was the third figure that truly held Nadine's attention.

He seemed to be male, and, like his companions, was dressed in leather. On the upper part of his body, however, sections of flesh had been peeled down and sewn into his outfit, leaving open wounds, freshly bleeding. A leather belt that held rusted weapons of some kind were sewn through his stomach. Like the others, his skin was a cold, blue-ish colour, like that of a corpse.

But none of this caused Nadine to take a second look.

What was _above_ his shoulders did.

His head and face were covered in a completely symmetrical grid, and into each corner, a pin had been embedded, right through the flesh, probably through bone and skull as well.

He looked utterly terrifying-and yet, oddly erotic.

And also not very happy.

"Wait!" His voice reverberated through the room, loud and authoritative. Even without knowing, it was clear he was the leader, and Nadine, though every nerve ending was shrieking, locked eyes with him.

And immediately, felt something..._familiar_, stir inside her.

The female stepped forward, looking none too happy herself. "This one is not..._alive_."

"_Human_." The one with the pins said at exactly the same time, and Nadine managed a smile. "Neither, actually." She replied, before slowly and painfully beginning to remove the chains that held her. As she did so, the female moved forward, sniffing, then finally hissed, "_Blood hunter_."

Bleeding in numerous places, but finally freeing herself, Nadine faced all three of them. Yes, they were frightening, and she wasn't sure she wanted to even hazard a guess as to where they'd come from, but...they couldn't kill her.

And she believed they now knew that.

"Actually, I prefer '_vampire_'." She replied casually, and the creature with the pins came closer. "_You_ opened the box?" He questioned her, and she looked deep into eyes as black as night and again felt that surge of..._knowing_.

How was that even possible?

"Yes." She finally told him. "Yes, I opened the box. But, I..." "You have no soul." The female snapped. "Without the soul, your flesh is worthless to us. Look, it heals already." "No offence," Nadine said sharply. "But when I opened the bloody thing, I didn't expect to be attacked by a bunch of...what exactly _are_ you?!"

"Demons." The one with the pins replied, affecting almost an air of boredom. "Or angels, depending entirely on your point of view. We are explorers of the flesh, of hidden pleasures. We answer the call of desire. And _you _have called us here under false pretences."

"I didn't _call _anyone, I..." Nadine stopped, as something the creature had said got through to her. "Wait. You said _desire _calls you?" "Yes." He replied. "It is desire that opens the box."

Nadine was smiling now, even under her sadness. The dark desire in Elliot's soul had cried out to the box.

And _they_ had answered.

"So, it's not necessarily the person who actually opens the box who calls you?" Nadine asked. "But desire?" The pin demon actually looked a bit interested now. "Precisely." He told her.

"I understand now." Nadine said quietly. "I opened the box-but I didn't call you. I have no soul; my search for pleasure ended a very long time ago. I only sought a friend."

The pin demon stepped even closer to her, the bright, supernatural light reflecting off the metal decorating his head and face, making it look almost as if he were wearing a halo. His onyx eyes bore into hers, and the intensity of his gaze brought forth that sense of familiarity in Nadine once again. Then she noticed he was smiling, ever so slightly.

"A _friend_?" He repeated, his tone a little mocking, and she nodded, unnerved suddenly. It was almost like he..._knew_ her, even though she saw no recognition on his face-no human expression at all, actually. "Yes, a friend." She responded. "About eighty years ago, he disappeared. After acquiring a box. _That_ box." She pointed to the puzzle box on the floor, now open.

The pin demon now looked highly amused. "You opened the box, because you wished to know what became of your _friend_." It was a statement, rather than a question, and Nadine glanced sadly at the chains that had held her fast only moments ago. "I believe I already know." She said. "They die, don't they? Those who open the box?"

"Their flesh is torn apart." He told her matter-of-factly, by way of reply. "And their soul is ours, to deliver to Hell and do with as we see fit. There, they learn the _true_ meaning of pleasure."

Nadine swallowed another wave of uncharacteristic sadness. She had never loved Elliot, had never been able to, but she had cared, cared enough to not stop searching for him. And it hurt, hurt some deep, unidentifiable, place inside her, to know he had died so horribly and agonizingly.

The pin demon sensed her upset, and seemed to revel in it. "You have wasted your time, I am afraid." He told her. "If your friend opened the box, he now belongs to us." After a short pause, he added, "I presume you are satisfied now?" Nadine merely shook her head, and he said, more quietly, sounding both amused and puzzled, "No longer human-and yet, you feel grief for that which is long gone."

"You wouldn't understand." She muttered. "You are not of this world." "True." The pin demon agreed. "But neither are _you_, child."

"Enough!" The female demon suddenly cut in, still looking hugely displeased, while the third party chattered noisily in the background, a sound that jarred on Nadine's nerves. "This trivial talk only wastes time. We cannot return to Hell without a soul-and the blood hunter _has_ none."

And just like that, Nadine remembered.

The mortal.

Turning around, she saw him standing at his apartment door, staring in stupefied horror at the scene that had unfolded before him. He was apparently frozen to the spot, unable to move; otherwise, he would surely have fled long ago.

Nadine smiled, then turned to the demons, focussing on their leader, black eyes meeting green, as she murmured, "I did not seek pleasure-_he_ did. And I have no soul to offer-but _he_ does. "

Ben's eyes widened in sheer terror as the enormity of what she was doing hit him, and he spun for the door, then screamed, far louder than Nadine had, as the chains caught him. They lifted him high into the air, tearing at his flesh, his blood pooling on the ground, as the pin demon said to Nadine, "You offer us this soul?"

"Yes." She immediately replied, as the boy screamed above her head. She felt no remorse, however, no guilt; after all, he would have opened the box anyway, with the same results.

The pin demon reached out a hand, and Nadine shivered as his fingers, cold as the grave, brushed her cheek. Then she saw it-the tiniest spark of recognition in his otherwise empty eyes. "I _know_ you." He murmured. "I cannot recall from where, but...I feel certain I know you."

And although she had the exact same feeling, she denied it. "Impossible." She retorted with a small smile. "I think I'd remember if we'd met before. After all, yours isn't a face I could easily forget."

The pin demon nodded at this, seemingly in agreement, and for the first time, Nadine realized it wasn't just a certain way he looked at her that was familiar-it was the way he carried himself, that aura of aristocracy, of...authority.

_Elliot used to carry himself just like that_.

_But this...__**creature**__ could not be Elliot_.

_Elliot was gone_.

"You must go now." He ordered. "This is not for your eyes." As the chains pulled tighter on the boy, rending his flesh even further, he screamed ever louder, the noise filling the whole room.

"You Goddamned _bitch_!" Nadine whirled around as he yelled out at her; he was suspended almost from the ceiling, blood pouring from more than a dozen open wounds on his body, and she felt the bloodlust growing in her. Holding her hands out, she moaned softly as his blood dripped onto them, her eyes becoming red again. Slowly licking the fluid from one hand, she told the terrified, dying mortal, "Make no mistake, boy-it wasn't _God_ who damned me. I damned _myself_. Just as _you_ have."

Turning to the demons again, she said, "I ask only one thing from you in return." Typically, it was the pin demon who responded-"And what is that?" Gesturing to the bloody mess that had once resembled a fairly handsome young man, she told him, "The soul is _your_ pleasure-but the blood is _mine_."

Understanding, the demon nodded his assent. "Very well." He replied. "The blood will await you here. But you must go now. We must take him."

Nadine headed for the door, but turned back to look at him once more, this mutilated demon, strangely beautiful, who, in so many ways, resembled her former lover. Their eyes met one last time, and, almost in a gesture of mutual respect, they nodded to each other.

She was already long gone when Ben drew his final scream...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5-Reunion**

_Two days later:_

Now that she knew what had happened to Elliot, Nadine felt she no longer needed to have possession of the box-she had found the answers she'd sought. _Hadn't _she?

So, why was she sitting in her apartment-well, more like a subterranean bunker below ground level, to protect her from the sun's destructive rays-staring intently at said box?

Because of _him_, perhaps?

She had returned to the mortal's abode about an hour after the pin demon had ordered her to leave, and found it in total darkness, in such inky darkness, in fact, that she couldn't see a thing.

Just as she fumbled for the light switch, she felt it-what seemed like water dripping onto her outstretched arm. However, each droplet that splashed onto her skin caused Nadine to moan in ecstasy, and she felt her vampiric nature asserting itself.

Blood.

It was _blood_.

Finally, she switched on the light, then took an involuntary step backwards, surprised, despite herself, mouth dropping open slightly.

The place looked like an abattoir; blood dripped from the ceiling, flowed freely down the walls, pooled on the floor. It was _everywhere_, and Nadine couldn't help but wonder how so much blood could come from one human.

Something she should have no cause to wonder about.

As she let her head fall back, and let the blood spill over her, opening her mouth to take it in, moaning again at the hot, sweet taste, _bathing_ in it, she had only one clear, coherent thought:

_**He**__ had kept his promise_.

She had found the box on the floor, closed again to her now, and, without thinking, had picked it up and brought it with her. And now, here she was, staring at its wood-and-brass beauty, trying to figure out how she could see _him_ again. Not since Elliot had she felt so dangerously drawn to a man.

Except, of course, this wasn't a _man_ at all-but a demon from Hell.

With an audible sigh, Nadine stood, then took a look around her small living quarters. It was filled with elements of her old life, her human life-clothes, photographs. On top of an antique dresser was a photograph of her and Elliot, taken by a young Indian man while they were strolling through the market, who had then asked for money in return for the picture. To her surprise, Elliot had paid the man, and received the photograph two days later, when he returned to the market.

They were both smiling into the camera, but Elliot had a familiar, faraway look in his eyes, like mentally, he was somewhere else. And most times, he had been. Nadine recalled that unless she was hurting him, Elliot always looked distracted. Even when they were making love.

_Love_? Oh, but that was a _joke_. There had been no love between them. Nothing but sex and pain. But she hadn't been enough for Elliot-he had searched for even deeper pleasures.

And had found death instead.

Nadine turned to pick up the box, feeling it tingle under her touch, and she smiled as an idea occurred to her. Alone, she was useless to these demons-she was immortal, soulless. However, there were others out there, other humans who sought forbidden pleasure. She would go back to the club, would take the box with her, would wait, for someone to come to her. And she would deliver them to the demons. She still had questions to ask of the pin demon-about the Hell he'd come from, why he did what he did.

But mostly, she just wanted to see him again.

She didn't have long to wait. She'd only been in FireWorks for about fifteen minutes, the box on prominent display on the table at which she was sitting, when a youth came up to her, face glittering with several piercings, black hair shaved into a mohawk. Without so much as an introduction, he pointed to the box and demanded, "What _is_ that? I haven't been able to take my eyes off it!" Feigning innocence, Nadine replied, "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure-I only acquired it recently, but apparently, if you can believe this, it's supposed to be a gateway to pleasures beyond human imagining. I haven't had much luck opening it, though." With an amused chuckle, she added, "Bloody ridiculous, isn't it?"

Just as she'd hoped, the young man sat down next to her, face lighting up considerably. "Would you sell it?" He asked, and she shook her had, affecting a regretful expression. "I'm afraid it's not for sale." She replied. "I really need to get it open." She then extended her hand to the youth, putting on her most seductive smile. "Oh, but where are my manners?" She said softly. "I'm Nadine. Nadine Jones." He shook her hand, gazing into her eyes. "Philip Galloway." He told her, then, predictably, his eyes were drawn to the box again. "It really is beautiful." He murmured. "Quite." Nadine agreed, then added, as if the thought had just come to her, "Listen, forgive me if this sounds incredibly forward of me, but...is there somewhere private we could go? Two pairs of hands are better than one-perhaps, together, we could open this thing?"

Philip practically fell over the chair in his hurry to get up. "My place." He said excitedly. "It's not far from here." Then, with a trace of uncertainty, he added, "But...how do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't." The answer was blunt, and off Philip's alarmed expression, Nadine added, more gently, to soften the effect of her previous words, "But, if it would make you feel better, you can search me. I am unarmed, and otherwise, would be quite incapable of harming you." She stood, put her hands in the air-making sure to grab the box as she did so-and with an amused smile, said, "Go right ahead." Seemingly satisfied, Philip returned her smile. "It's alright." He said. "Let's go."...

As soon as they got to Philip's apartment, Nadine handed him the box. "You try first." She said. "Maybe you'll have better luck." Eagerly, he took the box from her, turning it over in his hands, so immediately engrossed in it that he didn't even notice Nadine backing away from him, leaping effortlessly onto the sill of his bedroom window, and looking down at him, smiling.

Philip caressed the box as if it were a lover, making low noises, thick with desire, in the back of his throat as the box thrummed its sensuous response. It seemed to be reacting to his every touch, which only served to intensify his excitement. He had been curious about the box, but now he was desperate to open it, to discover its secrets.

And then, as one thumb rubbed moistly across a circle, just like a lover, the box opened wide for him, configuring itself appropriately, tinkling its sweet, sad melody.

Nadine shivered as the room filled with familiar white light, and the heat was sucked out of the room. And as those dreadful, chilling bells tolled, and _they_ came out of the light, Philip screamed, but of course, it was far too late. The chains caught him, tore him, lifted him-and then _he_ spoke, voice cold, utterly devoid of any human concern:

"The box. You opened it. We came."

"N-No!" Philip shouted through his obvious agony. "I didn't-I didn't know! It was her! It was-_Nadine_!" He called her name, trying to twist his head to look at her, and, following his direction, the demons also turned, and once again, Nadine's eyes met black, obsidian ones.

"Nadine?" Her name was a question on his lips, and she nodded to him. "You came back."

Nadine leapt from the windowsill, landing on her feet next to them. "Curiosity." She smiled. "One of the few traits not exclusive to humanity."

As the pin demon actually smiled at this, Philip exploded. "You know these..._things_?" He yelled. "You _knew_! You knew, you _bitch_!"

The pin demon briefly turned his attention to the young man currently being slowly ripped apart. "Such a powerful voice." He told him. "You will have much use for it in your Hell."

As the chains tightened, rending Philip's flesh further, the female demon rounded on Nadine. "What is it you want, blood hunter?" She snapped. "You have nothing to offer us." Nadine merely smiled, and gestured to Philip. "I beg to differ." She retorted.

"Another soul?" The pin demon said, looking straight at her. "In exchange for what? More blood? That you can find on your own." "True." Nadine agreed. "I...had questions. I was hoping to speak with you. Alone."

There was silence for a moment, and Nadine thought he wasn't going to agree, until he suddenly turned to his companions and ordered, "Leave us." They didn't move, and he levelled them with a look that clearly said he wasn't about to repeat himself, a look that, again, reminded her of Elliot. They departed quickly, leaving them alone with Philip, who was barely alive and suspended above their heads.

"If you wish to question me again about your friend," the pin demon began. "Then you are wasting your own time as well as mine. He is in Hell-and quite unreachable." Nadine shook her head. "I know what became of him." She told him. "I want to ask..." She pointed toward the light, towards the portal now visible to her, and asked, "That is Hell?" Off his affirming nod, she murmured, "It's cold. So much for the concept of hellfire and brimstone."

"It is merely one interpretation of Hell." The pin demon explained. "There are others-but our Hell teaches about the extremities of pleasure and pain." Gesturing with one hand to the light, he added, "In our Hell, pleasure and pain walk hand in hand." Looking genuinely disappointed, he told her, "Such a pity you are no longer human. There is much I could show you."

"This isn't what I wanted!" Philip shouted suddenly-or, at least, he tried to shout; his voice was weak from pain and blood loss. "There's been a mistake!" The expression on the demon's face told Nadine he had heard this many times before, as he looked up at the struggling young man and retorted, "There is no mistake. Nadine might have led you to the box, but it was your desire that opened it. It called to us. Believe me, you are exactly where you _want_ to be-your soul says so."

He turned sharply as Nadine chuckled. Already, she had some of Philip's blood on her, and her vampire self was out in force, fangs elongated, eyes red. "Humanity." She said mockingly. "So weak. So breakable. So utterly _fragile_. Makes me glad I'm no longer a part of it."

"Nadine," Philip begged weakly. "Please...for the love of _God_!" Now she laughed openly as she approached him. "_God_?" She repeated derisively. "For decades, I have walked this Earth, and it still cries out to God." Then, suddenly, she recalled something she had once said to Elliot, and she added, "A god, who, in our moments of most exquisite pleasure or excruciating agony, closes his eyes, and turns his head away."

Nadine was too busy concentrating on Philip to see the demon's mouth widen in shock, realization dawning in those ink-black eyes, recognition written on his pin-studded face. She was about to speak further, when he spoke for her:

"Does it _look_ like God's here?"

The smile drained from Nadine's face, features regaining their facade of humanity, as she spun to face the demon, who was now smiling at her, a familiar smile that clutched at her long-dead heart. "Nadine." He said gently, and there was no mistaking that he recognised her. "Oh, sweet Nadine-now I remember."

She shook her had, denying desperately what she now knew to be true, backing away from him, into Philip, even as he was torn apart in his final mortal agony. As blood and chunks of flesh rained down on her, she gaped in horror at this..._thing_, who had spoken her name just like...

No. _No_. It _couldn't_ be.

"What's the matter, Nadine?" He enquired, the smile never leaving his face. "Don't you think it's rather appropriate? After all, you did once say we were both going to Hell."

And Nadine flinched, as, unwillingly, she remembered:

_"Do you think we're going to Hell?" _

_"What?" Nadine propped herself up on one elbow, staring down into Elliot's contemplative face. "What sort of question is that?" _

_They were in bed together, having just had sex; sweat, blood and other fluids drying on their cooling bodies. Elliot had come out with some strange post-coital statements before, but this was, by __**far**__, the strangest. _

_"Well, think about it." He said, muscles quivering in tired protest as he sat up, forcing her to do the same. "The things we do...it seems a perfectly pertinent question to ask." _

_Nadine chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him briefly. "Elliot," she said patiently. "The only people we hurt are each __**other**__. It's not like we go out every night __**slaughtering**__ people, for pity's sake!" Off his persistent gaze, she sighed, and replied, "Alright, honestly__**, yes**__-I think we're both going to Hell. It's probably the only bloody place that would __**have**__ us. I don't suppose heaven holds any place for me. And __**you**__...you have a self-destructive streak a mile wide, Elliot Spenser. The direction you're headed in, you're going to end up either dead, or in prison. And I can promise you that I will __**not**__ come to visit you,__** or**__ write, should that happen." _

_Elliot laughed loudly, a rare occurrence; Nadine, in fact, could count the amount of times he had genuinely laughed on one hand, and still have fingers left over. "How the Hell can you visit me if I'm dead, you idiot?" He chuckled, and Nadine glared at him, but felt an answering smile tug at her own lips, and she picked up one of the eiderdown pillows and walloped him with it, then squealed with delight when he rolled her onto her back, kissing her into submission..._

The flashback faded, and Nadine was once again standing in Philip's apartment, covered in _Philip_, staring into the eyes of a demon, a _monstrosity_, who...

Slowly, very slowly, she walked up to him, staring intently into that pale face. And there he was, staring back at her, the features she hadn't been able to see-or had _chosen_ not to see-because of the pins. The smile he had so rarely bestowed on her.

Her hand clapped to her mouth for a moment, then dropped again, one word leaving her lips, a word she almost dared not utter, in a horrified whisper:

"_Elliot_?"

(Much darkness to ensue. Hope you're enjoying!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6-Forgotten Desires **

**Once again, "Enjoy The Silence" is the property of Depeche Mode; WARNING-explicit sex and violence. Chapter changes to Pinhead/Elliot's POV halfway through**.

_**"Vows are spoken to be broken; **_

_**Feelings are intense, words are trivial. **_

_**Pleasures remain, so does the pain;**_

_**Words are meaningless, and forgettable. **_

_**All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here, in my arms..." **_

_**Her hands clapped to her mouth for a moment, then dropped again, one word leaving her lips, a word she almost dared not utter, in a horrified whisper: **_

_**"**__**Elliot**__**?" **_

He shook his head at her, this demon whom Nadine now knew had once been her lover. "No." He told her shortly. "Not anymore."

Nadine stumbled away from him again, horror and anger evident on her face. "W-What..._how_?" She gasped, then suddenly blurted out, "You _lied_ to me!"

"_Did_ I?" He looked amused now, but also looked as if he might quickly grow bored with this conversation, and Nadine felt her fists clench in anger and frustration, scarcely able to believe that this Hellish creature, though grotesquely beautiful, was Elliot. Or _used_ to be. "You told me that the flesh is torn apart, and the soul is taken to Hell." She snapped. "What happened to _yours_? How did..._this_ happen, Elliot?"

Musingly, as if he were talking to himself, he replied quietly, "Many are called-but only a few are chosen." Nadine gaped at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Is that..._scripture_?" She spluttered. "Are _you_, of all people, actually quoting _scripture_ at me??"

"It applies in this particular instance, Nadine." He replied coldly. "_I _ was chosen." "Chosen for _what_?" She persisted, and now he actually smiled. "To serve Hell." He replied, his tone proud. "To serve Leviathan, the god of flesh and desire."

Nadine simply looked at him for several moments, until the full implication of what he had just said hit her, and she burst out laughing, her laughter quickly growing hysterical, not noticing Elliot's expression darkening considerably.

"_Look_ at you, Elliot," she hissed, between chuckles. "Don't call me that!" He retorted harshly, but he was silent once more, as Nadine, ignoring him, continued, more quietly, "Look at you. A soldier to the end."

Fathomless black eyes now glinting with growing anger, he reached forward, hands snapping out to grasp, perhaps to hurt, but Nadine stepped easily away from his searching hands, her expression now one of pure contempt. "Thirty-two years you spent on this mortal earth." She kept speaking, feeling her old lover's rage blossoming, but choosing to ignore it. For the moment. "Four of those years spent _serving_ in a war you hated. _Serving_ in a war that destroyed all that was human in you. _Serving_ a god who abandoned you." She paused to let her words sink in, and she could see from the way Elliot's face was working that they were sinking in. However much he didn't want them to.

"And now," she continued, voice rising as she spoke. "All these decades later, I find you, tied to a puzzle box. And still..._serving_ something!"

"I am a Cenobite!" Elliot exploded, black leather gown making a rasping noise as he moved quickly forward, managing to grip Nadine's shoulders and pull her to him. "I am the Dark Prince of Pain, guardian of the gates of hell. My former life no longer holds any meaning, I..."

Nadine shrugged off Elliot's cold hands, and pushed her hands, still coated with Philip's blood, against his chest, feeling the pulsing muscles underneath the peeled back flesh.

Vile. Disgusting. And yet, still..._desirable_?

"The uniform might have changed a little, _Captain Spenser_." She forced as much vitriol into her voice as she could, as she spat his former title into his face, looking him up and down disdainfully. "But _you_ haven't. Not really."

Nadine turned her back on him, anger and a strange yearning warring inside her. She acknowledged that the Elliot she had known was gone, that this creature only wore his face and carried his memories. But to her, this, somehow, was _still _her lover.

However, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing she thought that.

She had to get out of here.

Pausing only to pick up the box, she shoved it into his hands, still ignoring the fury radiating from those utterly beautiful ebony eyes, and concluded, "Take it. Keep it. I won't be back."

Nadine pushed her way past the chains and what was left of Philip, shaking blood and flesh from her body, and got to the door, reaching out a hand to open it. And that was as far as she got, when she felt a hooked chain dig into the lower end of her back, narrowly missing the spine. "You know," she said softly. "That this is a colossal waste of your time, as..."

She uttered an uncharacteristically helpless squeal, as she was suddenly and without warning yanked backwards, reeled in like a fish, and unceremoniously slammed against him. She could feel the flesh where the hook was embedded come loose and felt blood flow, and yelped in pain, fangs showing.

But the pain didn't matter, if he couldn't kill her.

Elliot was trembling with unbridled fury. "You _dare_ speak to me like that!" He exclaimed, blackened teeth revealed in an animal snarl. Normally so distant, so coldly polite, in his dealings with others, he now looked every inch the demon.

Nadine stared up into his face, the detailed arrangement of pins, so violently erotic, and then it hit her. Elliot had found his Hell-but he had also found the ultimate realm of pleasure. She remembered the knives, the cutting, the blood, his cries of ecstasy and pain, and they paled in comparison to this. Whoever or whatever had done this to him...he had probably _loved_ it. Every torturous second.

Slowly, she reached up hands that were now trembling to cup his face, pins scratching pleasurably against her palms as her eyelids fluttered closed, and she murmured, "We were amateurs, Elliot. The things we did, fade into utter obsolescence, when I see what you've become. Utterly appalling. And a work of art, all at once."

His anger seemed to dissipate at her words, and his pale lips curved into a smile. "Ah, Nadine." He replied, deep voice barely above a whisper, as her fingers continued to stroke the pins adorning his face, never once touching his skin. "You always _did_ have a flair for the depraved."

Nadine returned his smile, eyes still closed, fingers splayed over his pins in a gentle caress as she whispered, "So did _you_." Then, without warning, with one single, jerky movement, she pushed her hands into his face, impaling them on metal, through flesh and bone, succeeding in pushing the pins deeper into his own flesh.

The demon gasped in surprise and perhaps pain as well, as the dark blood flowing from her hands mixed with the blood now oozing from his face. Simultaneously, Nadine also gasped, then let her head fall back, but her expression was one of rapture, not agony.

It..._hurt_, so excruciatingly. But it also...felt so damned _good_.

Xipe Totec, formerly known as Captain Elliot Spenser, also known, thanks to a certain reporter called Joey Summerskill, as Pinhead, watched the woman essentially hanging from his face, her head flung back, mouth wide, eyes squeezed shut, a look of complete ecstasy on her face, and he suddenly felt confused.

He was a Cenobite, the Cenobite _leader_, favourite son of Leviathan _Himself._

He was _never_ confused.

But Nadine was..._had been_, his lover, once.

Or, at least, lover of the mortal soul inside him.

His confusion, he realized, was due to the fact that he didn't quite know what he wanted to do next. The demon he now was wanted to hurt this woman, immortal or not. He wanted to maim her, torture her, make her bleed, make her scream.

However, the tiny fragment of the man that still dwelled inside him wanted to..._mate _with her, _possess_ her.

Finally, she made his decision for him. Slowly, she extricated her hands from him bloody face, then, a moment later, held them up for him to see.

Her hands had already completely healed. There wasn't a single scratch on them.

"You see, Elliot?" She said mockingly. "You can't hurt me anymore."

With a shout of rage, Pinhead shoved her backwards until she bumped up against a wall. He pressed up against her, feeling her body against him, and again feeling that all too human surge of lust.

But he would _not_ give in to it.

"That's where you're wrong, Nadine." His voice was deceptively gentle, belying the anger and desire battling inside him. "I can't _kill_ you. But I have always known how to _hurt_ you." Dipping his head, so his pins barely touched her face, he whispered, using the exact same words she had used with all those years ago, the first time she'd tortured him, "Pain and pleasure can be exquisitely indivisible. Indistinguishable. Let me show you."

Without waiting for a response, Pinhead roughly pushed her legs apart, stood between them, then plunged his face, pins and all, directly into hers, puncturing flesh, eyeballs, lips, anything they delved into.

Like a captured fish on a hook, Nadine jerked and shuddered, screaming in her agony, screaming against his vicious assault. Smiling, he pushed his face even closer, uttering a soft moan as blood from her brutalised face ran onto his. But already, he could feel every horrific wound he'd caused healing, closing around the pins. So, he pulled away quickly, causing them to re-open and bleed afresh.

He waited patiently for Nadine's face to heal completely, then came forward again, his face and pins dripping with his own blood as well as hers. "I'm going to make you bleed, Nadine." He told her, in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone of voice. " I'm going to make you scream for me, in a way you never did for your mortal mate. You are going to come apart in my hands-and you are going to enjoy every agonising second."

Reaching down, Pinhead ripped her pants open and down, then looked up, into her eyes. They were hazy with pain, and also, predictably, with desire.

_She had always loved the pain_.

Sensing her mounting arousal, Pinhead leaned in, and whispered, "I know what you want, Nadine. All the baser pleasures the flesh has to offer. I can smell that oh, so familiar stench of lust on you. But is it lust for pain-or for _him_?"

Again, he didn't wait for a reply, but summoned his chains, hooking Nadine in several places and stretching her wide, arms and legs akimbo. He closed his eyes briefly, relishing her cries of pain, while trying to ignore the fact that he was answering her arousal with his own, trying to ignore the longing to push his way inside her.

But that was _human_ thinking.

And he wasn't human.

Moving forward, he stroked Nadine's face while a couple of hooks detached themselves from her skin and glided down her exposed thighs, leaving bleeding gashes that were already beginning to heal when they entered...

_There_.

Pinhead watched, smiling, breathing heavily, as twin hooks punched their way inside Nadine, deep inside, tearing, gouging, while her screams grew in volume, her body shaking. Blood spilled out of her, onto the floor, and after a few minutes, he was about to take the hooks out, when he realized Nadine had stopped screaming.

She was now moaning Elliot's name.

With _pleasure_.

With a slight shudder, he approached her, watching her closely. Her face was as pale as ever, but her lips looked redder, fuller, eyes half-closed, and he could see they were red, and her fangs were out, too.

"Is it the demon that wants him, Nadine?" He murmured. "Or the woman?" As she looked at him, crimson eyes settling on his, he added, "You _do_ want him-don't you?"

Nadine didn't respond, but she didn't have to. Pinhead could sense her desire, could smell it-could almost _taste_ it. And he knew that the spark of Elliot Spenser that still existed had won.

The hooks fell to the ground on his command, releasing her, and she slumped forward, right into his waiting hands. "Elliot..." She mumbled faintly, then started in shock when, without a single word, he tore her shirt open with one hand, and reached down between her legs with the other, fingers slipping inside her, the wound he'd created healing slowly, but still bleeding...and then he found what he was looking for.

The sweet peak of her desire, hard under his cold fingertips.

"Please, Elliot..." His head shot up at her desperate plea, and he smiled, genuinely amused at this turn of events. "I do believe," he said softly. "That this is the very first time you've begged him, Nadine. But what is it you beg for? Mercy? Or _this_?" He swept his leather-bound thumb across her aroused nub, earning another moan.

Pinhead stood straight, suddenly serious again, as his black gaze swept over her. Keeping his eyes on her face, he swept off her bloody shirt, her bra quickly following suit, tossed carelessly on the ground. And slowly, Pinhead lowered his face, pins piercing through the soft skin of her breast, as he took one nipple between icy lips, feeling Nadine jerk towards him, crying out sharply.

He fumbled briefly with his heavy leather robes, still watching her, desire now burning up his normally cold body. He had always tried to repress the tiny molecule of humanity in him, but Spenser had won this particular battle.

Nadine's eyes were half-closed when he entered her, and they both gasped when he was fully sheathed inside of her. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her into his strong arms, as he rocked against her, his head falling backwards. He was unaccustomed to the sensation of sexual pleasure, but he would be lying to himself if he denied that he was enjoying it. His body, though essentially dead, and demonised, was aching, moving in a rhythm old as time, in almost perfect sync with hers.

Pinhead was so lost in his own unfamiliar pleasure that he was quite unprepared for Nadine, suddenly arching up against him, pulling at the collar of his leather robe, and sinking her teeth into his neck. He sighed, reaching one hand around to cup the back of her neck, holding her head in place, feeling his black demon blood flow from his neck into her mouth.

And then, Pinhead felt it-the human soul in him crying, pleading, for one moment, one last moment with her. And suddenly, it wasn't the demon mating with her, anymore-but the man.

"Nadine," it was Elliot who now moaned her name, Elliot whose blood now flowed from her bite mark, Elliot whose hips were now moving at breakneck speed, his climax agonizingly close. Once this was over, he knew the demon would return to the forefront, so he wanted to savour the moment; after the long decades of pain and torment, he wanted to lose himself in pleasure.

Nadine pulled back, retracting her teeth from his neck, and when she looked up into Elliot's blue eyes and he smiled at her, she almost leapt out of his arms. "Elliot..?" She gasped. "_How_??" He merely shook his head, knowing this was a shock, but having neither the time nor the inclination to explain, he simply pulled her close. "Don't stop, darling." He panted, the rhythm losing time now, his body bucking against hers. "Please...don't stop." And at that, he felt her peak in his arms, inner walls closing down around him, heard her scream his name exactly as she used to, and finally, he let go, uttering a sharp, strangled cry, and spilling his essence into her.

As soon as their orgasms faded, Elliot felt himself fading too, felt the demon re-emerging, and knew he had but a moment with her. Taking her face in his hands, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Nadine. Sorry for everything I ever did to you. Forgive me."

And then he was gone, and only the demon remained, smiling mockingly at her. Pulling away, he readjusted his robe and said, "He wanted to be alone with you, wanted you one last time. I suppose I owed him that much."

Nadine just looked at him. Only a moment ago, Elliot had been with her, _in_ her, those amazing blue eyes capturing hers, and she, who had once been so sure she felt nothing, suddenly knew the real pain of his loss. What had just happened amounted to nothing more than a sweet illusion-the demon was all that truly remained of Elliot Spenser; he had just been permitted to show himself to her, one last time, to be with her, to ask forgiveness.

But there was nothing to forgive him for. She had been as damned as Elliot had been.

She'd never loved him, but part of her would always _miss_ him.

"Why?" She asked, moving gingerly to re-dress herself, though her body still ached from being tortured. And ached with pleasure that was fading far too quickly. "Spenser's soul still lives in me." He told her. "It is buried deep, but he cried out for you. I let him out, just for a moment. You..._enjoyed_ it?"

Nadine nodded, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth. "I enjoyed it." She replied. "As did he." And then, pointing at him, she added triumphantly, "As did _you_."

"Nonsense!" Pinhead retorted sharply. "Human desire means nothing to me. I live beyond the realm of mortal sensation, where..."

"Before you let Elliot out," Nadine interrupted. "I sensed it. Your lust. Perhaps it was Elliot's lust, but you still allowed yourself to _feel_ it. Didn't you?"

He didn't reply, but just glared at her, and Nadine chuckled softly. "It's alright." She grinned. "I already know the answer."

She walked to the door, knowing somehow that this time, he wouldn't force her back. Before she left, she turned briefly, and murmured, pointing to the remains of Philip, "You had better go. I'm sure your _god_ awaits you-and _him_."

And then, without looking back, she thrust open the door and was gone...

**(Final chapter to come soon, still not sure how to end this, but have a couple ideas in my head-hope this wasn't too dark or explicit and that you enjoyed!) **


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7-Finding A Way**_

_**(Okay, not the final chapter just yet, just something that came into my head. I'd struggled with this for some time, so sorry for the delay in updating. Final chapter is next**_ _**up. No Pinhead in this chapter, but plenty to come! Saul Cartwright is my OC. )**_

Nadine was lost. Lost to him, to Elliot-or, at least, the demon who now possessed Elliot's soul. The human world in which she had existed for over a century no longer held any mystery for her. She had walked away, but knew, deep down, that she would eventually return to him. Their mating had proven to her that, although Elliot was essentially dead, her lover still existed inside the demon he'd become.

She wanted him.

She wanted to be _with_ him, in his Hell.

There was, however, one major obstacle in the way of her doing this-her lack of a soul. She knew that, without it, she was useless to him, worthless. That he wouldn't want her.

Except he _had_ wanted her, however briefly; while, in the end, Elliot had come to the fore and given himself to her one final time, the demon had felt desire for her, too, or had simply felt Elliot's desire. No matter. She'd sensed it. And he _knew_ it.

But that was fine.

Because she wanted him, too. Even more than she'd wanted Elliot, perhaps. Those pins, the leather, those cold, inky eyes...all components that defined evil, and yet, defined something _deeper_. Something neither humanity nor vampirism had adequately lived up to.

She had to find a way to regain her soul, somehow. She was done with this world, with its dull inconsequentiality, its insipid pleasures and pathetic sufferings.

The world at large had absolutely no idea what true pain really was.

But _he_ did.

And she wanted him to show her.

As for getting her soul back, she had heard of ancient restoration rituals, but had no idea if they were real, or merely myths. But, she knew exactly who to ask.

Typically, vampires did not hunt or kill in groups; they were mostly loners, preferring their own company to that of others. However, they were not averse to being approached by their own kind, if help were needed.

Nadine had known Saul for over twenty years; they were about as friendly as two vampires could be to each other, and he had always told her that if she needed anything, he would try to help.

And _now_, she needed something...

Saul could be difficult to find; as with all vampires, he spent the daylight hours underground, hiding from the sun. But Nadine managed to track him down that evening, as soon as the sun set, finding him down on Oxford Street, wrapped in a long black trenchcoat, wavy blond hair tied back in an unruly ponytail. The moon was out in force that very evening, and Saul stood with his back to it, silhouetted against its brilliance.

Saul Cartwright had been a vampire much longer than Nadine had been-about a hundred and fifty years longer, in fact. He had seen things in his existence that Nadine couldn't even fathom.

Over two hundred and eighty years old, but still as handsome and stately as the day he'd died, aged thirty-five. Saul was the only other 'person' she could really talk to.

And the only one she'd ever talked to about Elliot.

"So," Saul said, without ever turning around. "What can I do for you, Nadine?" Nadine smiled as she approached him. "Vampire senses are a wonderful asset, aren't they?" She murmured. "You can always tell who's sneaking up on you."

"Is _that_ what you were doing?" He sounded amused. "I wasn't aware you felt the need to do so-surely we've known each other too long for that."

Nadine said nothing for a moment, then spoke quietly, urgently. "I need your help, Saul." He chuckled softly, then finally turned to look at her. He had the most amazing azure eyes, and at well over six feet tall, he made for quite an intimidating presence.

She knew only too well the viciousness Saul was capable of-she'd witnessed it often enough.

"I presumed that's why you were looking for me." He replied. "I didn't think you'd come here merely to see how I was." A pause, and he asked, "What is it?"

"Are you aware of a ritual that can restore the soul of a vampire?" She asked, getting straight to the point. Saul's eyes widened in surprise; obviously, this was the last thing he'd expected to hear from her. "I...have heard of such a ritual." He told her hesitantly. "Furthermore, I have seen the book that contains it. I have no idea if it works, however." He frowned, obviously confused. "Why do you ask?"

"Can you find the book?" Nadine pressed, and now, Saul looked even more confused. "Nadine," he began. "Why on earth are you...?" He stopped, then seemed to realise. "You actually..._want_ to regain your soul?" He gasped incredulously. "After all these years? _Why_?"

Nadine wasn't sure how to respond. Could she tell Saul the truth, that she'd found Elliot after all these long decades-or, at least, what _remained_ of Elliot-and she wanted to go with him, to Hell?

Finally, she replied evasively, "I want to give it to someone." Saul looked at her, long and hard, for several moments, then, with an amused snort, he asked, "What did you do, Nadine-sell your soul to the Devil?"

Nadine grinned at his uncanny insightfulness. "That's closer to the truth than you could imagine." She replied, then decided to just tell him. "It's Elliot, Saul. I've found him."

Saul nodded, as if he'd been expecting this. "You know," he murmured. "For someone who never loved the man, you spent so long obsessed with finding him." He seemed to think for a moment, then added, "After all these years, he can't be alive." "He's not." Nadine conceded. "Vampire?" He enquired, and she shook her head. "No." She murmured. "He's...something else." Casting her eyes up to the moon, she said quietly, "We bring death to those we encounter, Saul. But there are things worse than death. Things you couldn't possibly imagine. Things, perhaps, you wouldn't _want_ to." Seeing she had his full attention, she continued, "It was the box. When Elliot opened it, instead of finding pleasure, he found Hell. Or, Hell found _him_. No matter. Ordinarily, when you open the box, you're taken to Hell, where your mortal self is destroyed, the flesh tortured beyond all human cognition and the soul torn apart-but Leviathan, the God of this particular Hell, made Elliot a Cenobite, guardian of the gates of Hell, a soldier, of sorts. His soul was possessed by a demon, and now, Elliot comes for all those who dare open the box, and..."

"You opened it." Saul interrupted. "You found the box, you opened it, and found Elliot...but he couldn't take you. Because you have no soul. _That's_ why you want to know about the ritual-you want to surrender your soul, and go with him."

"Exactly." Nadine agreed, but Saul said warningly, "Tread carefully, Nadine. If only Elliot's soul is inside this creature you met, then it may not be Elliot you give yourself to at all."

"It's _not _Elliot, really." Nadine replied gently. "I mean, his _soul_ is in there, somewhere, but the demon is in full control. The thing is Saul, I don't _care_. I've grown tired of this world-I think it's time to explore a new one."

Saul seemed to be rendered speechless, and when he did finally say something, he sounded completely astonished. "Are you saying you _want_ to go to Hell, to be torn apart and tortured?" He exclaimed. "I want to _fee_l." Nadine hissed, suddenly frustrated. "Really _feel_, Saul. The downside to being a vampire is the loss of real human sensation. Oh, we can feel _pain_, certainly-but not like I _want_ to. Not like I _could_, by his side."

Saul was now regarding her as he might a stranger, and she asked, with more than a little impatience in her voice, "Can you find me that book, Saul?" He nodded slowly. "I'll find it." He told her. "And I will bring it to you. And if it does work, Nadine, then I truly hope you find all that you seek." Off her questioning look, he added, "I'll know where to find you", and then he was gone.

True to his word, the very next evening, Saul came to her underground apartment, an impossibly large tome under his arm. It looked ancient, Nadine thought, as he leafed through it, the pages cracked and faded.

Saul stood next to her, as he showed her the page containing the ritual, which seemed to be written entirely in Latin. "It wasn't hard to find." He admitted. "However, there _is_ one condition." As Nadine looked up at him curiously, he told her, "You cannot perform the ritual yourself-somebody else has to say the words." With an all-too-casual shrug, he murmured, "I expect, that someone shall have to be _me_."...

**(Ok, definitely the final chapter next-this is just a little in-between thing that came into my head. So, will Nadine regain her soul? And how will Pinhead react if she does? Hope you're enjoying!)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8-A Final Offering**

_(Finally, the last chapter. I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update this, and my other fic-I've kind of been 'out of action' lately to be honest, and I've really struggled with my writing. But now, I'm back-for now, anyway, lol. Enjoy-and please R&R. Dedicated to my friend laura101, for her kindness and support. And also for, through her own stories, offering inspiration.)_

_Once again, 'Cat People (Putting Out Fire)' belongs to David Bowie_.

**"...See these tears so blue, **

**An ageless heart that can never mend. **

**These tears can never dry; **

**A judgement made can never bend. **

**See these eyes so green; **

**I can stare for a thousand years. **

**Just be still with me- **

**You wouldn't believe what I've been through... **

**And you've been so long..." **

Nadine watched as Saul prepared the ritual, sprinkling what looked like incense around her tiny apartment, the book clutched in his hands. While he did that, she picked up the box, stroking it, ready to summon _him_, once the ritual was complete.

She really hoped this worked; she'd been totally honest with Saul when she'd told him that she was tired of this world. It held no more surprises for her, no more thrills-she wanted to be with Elliot, or whatever Elliot now _was_, in Hell.

"Do I need to do anything?" She enquired of Saul, and he shook his head. "No." He replied. "All that's required for the ritual to be performed is your presence." He seemed about to begin, then lowered the book again, staring at her. "Nadine," he said softly. "It's not too late to change your mind."

Nadine shook her head in response. "No, Saul." She told him. "There is no turning back. This is what I want."

Apparently recognising that she was serious, Saul nodded, raised the book, and read from it. The ritual was written in Latin, and Nadine couldn't understand a word of what he was saying. And neither, judging by his expression, could Saul.

After several moments of absolutely nothing happening, an increasingly impatient and frustrated Nadine, still touching the box, was about to ask what was taking so bloody long, why it wasn't working, when suddenly, pain gripped her chest, excruciating, burning. Crying out in agony, Nadine dropped to the floor, the box falling out of her hands and to the floor, bouncing across the tattered carpet.

Neither Saul nor Nadine noticed the box opening, seemingly of its own accord, tinkling its beautiful, haunting melody, as Saul, the ritual just completed but now forgotten, tossed the book thoughtlessly aside, and rushed over to her, dropping to his knees next to her and grabbing her arm. "Nadine, what's wrong?" He said urgently, and he gasped when she looked up at him. Her vampiric self was out in full force, but there was blood pouring out of her mouth, and her pain was blatantly obvious.

Something had gone _horribly_ wrong.

"Nadine, wha-?" But now, it was Saul's turn to scream, as, from out of nowhere, chains with hooks lashed out of the darkness, dug into his flesh and yanked him away from Nadine.

Blearily, Nadine looked up, realizing what was happening. Struggling through the agony that seemed to be all around her as well as inside her, she staggered slowly to her feet, still bleeding heavily from her mouth.

Saul was suspended, flesh caught by hooked chains, her apartment ablaze with familiar cold white light. His head was flung back, and he was screaming in pain, as she herself had done that first time; it felt like a lifetime ago.

Then, a female Cenobite stepped out of the light, one Nadine didn't recognise from before. She might have been beautiful once, but now she looked appalling, repulsive...but of course, there was that typically brutal eroticism about her, that seemed to be indicative of all Cenobites.

Her scalp was peeled down on both sides, and pinned to her shoulders, her brain exposed. However, she had a very striking face, all big eyes and full lips. She was wearing the obligatory leather uniform, but there was an overt sexuality both about her and her dress, that seemed oddly atypical of these demons.

She stepped closer to Saul, her lips upturned in a mocking smile. "Mmm...so handsome..._blood hunter_." She murmured. Saul's eyes flicked from her to Nadine; he looked horrified. "What the _Hell_...?" He muttered, teeth still gritted in pain.

"No." Nadine gasped, as the female Cenobite moved towards Saul wielding what looked like a dirty rusted scalpel. She knew that Saul could not be killed this way, but she still did not want him to be hurt because of a decision she had chosen to make. The demon looked at her, disdain written all over her face. "He...didn't open the box." The pain was in her head now, pounding in her brain, although she had stopped bleeding.

What the _Hell_ was wrong with her?

Just as the demon got to Saul, scalpel raised to strike, a blessedly familiar voice shouted, "_No_!", and Nadine sagged with relief as _he_ appeared, frowning at the female, and then at Saul, and then finally turned that pitch-black gaze on her, and she was suddenly flooded with a barrage of contrasting feelings-desire, need, anguish, and a sense of loss and regret so intense that it overwhelmed the physical pain she was experiencing.

And in that instant, Nadine knew the ritual had worked, that her soul had been returned to her-because with it came all the human emotions she had previously lost. Suddenly, more than ever, after all these decades, she felt Elliot's loss-the loss of a man she had not loved, but had grown to care for, nonetheless-more keenly than ever.

But her desire...her desire was all for this..._thing_. This demon who was not Elliot. But _was_. Actually, he was more than just Elliot now-he was powerful and intense and...so utterly, _horribly_ beautiful.

"Nadine?" His deep voice, like Elliot's, but _not_, resonated around her, his tone questioning. Then, when he saw the blood, and her pained expression, for a second, for a momentary flash, Nadine saw a flicker of his lost humanity, as he looked up at a still-captive Saul, and she watched him stiffen, an expression crossing his face she initially couldn't define. And then, she realised what it was:

Fury. _Rage_. But not directed at her this time.

"What have you _done_ to her?" He hissed, and at that, Nadine moved forward, pointedly ignoring the female Cenobite, who was looking angrier by the minute.

"Elliot..." His name slipped past her lips without her even thinking about it. "It wasn't Saul. It was _me_. I wanted..." She stopped as the female turned on her, looking derisive. "Who is this _Elliot_ you speak of?" She sneered, then, gesturing to the Cenobite Nadine desired so desperately, she added, "This is Xipe Totec, favourite son of Leviathan, guardian..."

"_Silence_, Angelique." He rounded on her, and 'Angelique' recoiled when she looked into eyes that looked to Nadine as black as the darkest night, but stormy as thunderclouds. "Leave us."

She hesitated, and then boldly said, "Xipe, this pathetic creature has insulted you, referring to you in human terms." She pointed to Saul, now struggling to free himself, and told him, "And what of _him_? This..._vampire_ is of no use to us, he..."

The demon she had called Xipe silenced her with a withering glare. "Did you not hear me, _Princess_?" He snapped. "_Leave us_." Unwillingly, throwing Nadine one last, mistrustful glare, Angelique obeyed, departing into the light, back to Hell.

"Let Saul go." Xipe whirled around and faced Nadine, as she regarded him desperately. She felt weak and disoriented, the pain almost overwhelming. "He...didn't _do _anything. He didn't open the box. He's of no use to you."

To her surprise, he did as she'd asked, the hooks releasing Saul on his silent command, and Saul slumped to the ground, then stared up at what remained of Nadine's old lover. "_Elliot_...?" He gasped.

"Spenser no longer really exists." Xipe retorted formally, his anger apparently fading. "As Angelique has stated, I am the Cenobite Xipe Totec, Dark Pope and guardian of Hell. However, I _do_ possess the human soul of Elliot Spenser." He turned to Nadine, and his expression seemed to soften slightly, and he said, "You feel pain. I sense it. What has happened here?"

"Nadine wanted her soul back." Saul answered for her, standing now, his wounds healing quickly. "And I agreed to help her. There was this ritual...but I think something went wrong."

"Xipe..." The demon's attention had been focused on Saul, but now he turned around quickly to face Nadine again, eyes widening a little, perhaps because she had called him by his Cenobite name.

"I...wanted to go with you." She continued painfully. "And I knew that without a soul...I couldn't. But it has worked. I know it. I can _feel_ it." Before he could react, she grabbed his hand and held it to her chest, where her unbeating heart lay. But now, her long-lost humanity, her soul, was also there, throbbing furiously, crying out for him, filling her body and being with pain she had forgotten she could feel.

Pain she knew he could nurture, _feed_, as she desired.

To his credit, Xipe-for that was his _real_ name now-looked confused. "I can feel your soul." He said quietly, those gorgeous onyx eyes capturing hers, holding her gaze. "It causes you pain, but...you have done this for a man who no longer _lives_, Nadine. Spenser's soul belongs to me-but he is long dead. Why would you...?"

Saul was forgotten; it was like there was nobody else in the room-in the _world_-as Nadine shook her head furiously, and protested, "You're wrong. I didn't do this for Elliot. Elliot is gone. But _you're_ not. It's _you_ I want. Please."

Saul, realising that his presence was no longer required, watched briefly as Nadine offered her soul-offered _herself_-to the demon, and then he slipped away, knowing he would never see her again. But he knew her well enough to know that this-_he_-was what she wanted.

Nadine didn't even notice Saul's departure; she was in too much pain to concentrate properly anyway, and besides, her last vestiges of attention were reserved solely for the demon standing in front of her. He still looked tall and proud, but also uncertain.

He obviously hadn't been expecting this.

"You _did_ want me." She continued. "Even when it was Elliot...you felt desire. _Didn't_ you?"

For a moment, she didn't think he would reply, and then he reached out, pulling her roughly to him, pins scratching against her skin, pain forgotten, _everything _forgotten, as he whispered, his breath hot in her ear, "You _made_ me feel it, Nadine. You made me feel desire so strong, I thought I might go mad. Yes, I wanted you." Hands raking possessively over her body, making her shiver, he added harshly, "I _still_ want you."

He gripped her shoulders, looked into her face, and smiled, a calm, certain upturning of his lips. Never taking his eyes off her, he let his fingers, so cold, but so skilled, slide down her hips, her thighs. "I can show you pleasure, Nadine." He told her. "Pleasure so utterly exquisite, you'll scarcely be able to handle it. Pleasure beyond mortal imagining. And the suffering. Suffering so sweet, your soul will scream for more. Oh, I have such sights to show you." Stepping back, he offered her his hand, and murmured, "Come with me. Be my consort. Give me your soul-give me _yourself_. Let yourself be remade once more. And let me teach you the ways of a true Cenobite."

Nadine didn't hesitate even a second, but reached out, fingers entwining with his. Even now, she felt the pain fading, but she knew that he had much pain to show her, too.

And she wanted it. _All_ of it.

Before they left, Nadine asked, "The Cenobite, the one you called Angelique...I have a feeling she won't like me very much." Xipe snorted, with what, to her great surprise, seemed to be genuine humour, and retorted, "Pay no heed to Angelique, my sweet. She was once Princess of Hell, Leviathan's favourite daughter, many years ago, but now, she answers only to _me_. If she so much as _looks_ at you in a way I do not approve of, she will pay dearly. I will be making that _abundantly _clear. Now-shall we?"

Xipe gestured towards the light, towards the great Labyrinth of Hell, and Nadine smiled up at the demon who would be her leader, her consort, her _lover_, for all eternity. The demon for whom she would become a Cenobite, the demon who would instruct her in the ways of pain and pleasure, of ecstasy and suffering. The demon who would forever remind Nadine, sometimes clearly, sometimes obliquely, of a handsome British Army Captain she had met decades before.

But that all still awaited her. Still gripping Xipe's hand, Nadine walked with him into Hell, the gateway closing behind them...

**THE END **

_(I apologise if this, as it seems to be to me, is five different flavours of crap, but as I said, it's taken me a while to feel well enough to write this and 'get back into Nadine's head'. I wanted this to contrast with my 'lighter' Alternate H3 fic, to be honest, but I'm not sure I achieved that. Still, I hope it's ok-please R&R and stay safe!) _


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